


Home on Wheels

by lillullaby



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Established Relationship, High School Joe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillullaby/pseuds/lillullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school sucks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joe would know that car anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home on Wheels

6 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days and Joe is free as a bird.

He will never have think about New Trier High ever again.

 

Until then he's stuck trudging from 6th period math class to the bus after school every day. Joe figures it could probably be worse. (But it could also be a hell of a lot better.)

Sometimes he dreams about when he’ll get out of here, go on tour, and play a million gigs. How he’ll never be tested on random bullshit like polynomials or prepositional phrases. Just guitars, good music, good friends, and hot boyfriends.

There’s giant mass of people between Joe and the bus stop, and they all have come to a dead stop. Today is seriously not the day for this: He has to make it to Patrick’s house by 4:30. Patrick has been in one of those ‘I’m graduating and you all are shit heads’ moods. Joe was on the same boat, but he still didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a pissy Patrick.

So, all of these assholes need to get the _fuck_ out of his way.

 

He rolls onto his tip toes, trying to see what was going on (Why was everyone so fucking tall?)

 

He sees the bumper of a car before he sees what everyone is staring at, but that’s all it takes. Joe would know that car anywhere. With new found fervor, he starts really elbowing his way to the front.

 

It’s a beat up little honda civic. The paint job was more chipped silver scratches then it was the original green paint job. The whole thing was covered in a thousand and four green peace and PETA stickers. There’s a dent next to the tank from Joe’s skateboard last summer.

Joe knows this car- inside and out.

He fucking **loves** this car.

But he totally loves Andy more.

 

With one final push, and Joe sees him.

 

Sunglasses on, hair gathered into a messy bun, with all of his tattoos on display- He’s as beautiful as ever. Andy looks like a total hardass- ripped up Earth Crisis tank top and cargo shorts. It’s like a giant screw you to Illinois autumn. (“I’m from Wisconsin, Joe. I don’t get cold.”) Andy isn’t supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be sitting on his Mom’s couch, surrounded by textbooks and dusty old philosophy tomes. Joe has been counting down the days until Andy was scheduled to come back into town for another gig, and it isn’t for another 16 days.

 

The day quickly becomes the best day _ever_.

 

Joe’s tripping toward the car when he realizes that Andy’s been the spectacle all the along. He’s this crazy little punk guy who doesn’t belong in suburban Chicago. The jocks are giving him the side eye, and a few little punk emo kids are ogling at him openly. (Everyone else is pretending they’re not paying attention.)

 

Andy glances up at him, grinning when he sees that it’s Joe. He pushes his sunglasses onto the top of his head, eyes creasing as he smiles at him.

“Hey,” his voice is light and happy, and Joe has missed him so goddamn much. Andy pushes off the car, grabbing Joe’s backpack and skateboard to throw in the trunk, “You want a ride? I’m going to taco bell.”

It’s a stupid question.

“You’re dumb,” Joe sticks his tongue out at him, which results in Andy chucking his keys at Joe’s head. Joe climbs into the passenger seat, curling himself easily around books, hoodies, CDs, a 10 pound bag of trail mix, and all the other random shit Andy stores in his car.

 

It is intensely satisfying when Andy rolls out of the parking lot, leaving the crowd behind him with their mouths hanging open. Andy holds his hand over the center console as he drives. He does it casually, like it’s second nature. Joe has to keep himself from making a big deal about it because Andy is HERE. In Chicago. With Joe. (!!!) They fall back together easily.They know how to be together. To just hang out and enjoying each other. Joe had missed this, their no expectation, do nothing love.

Andy rants into the intercom at some poor, underpaid fast food worker about the repercussions if he finds cheese in his tacos again. Joe ignores it, reading an issue of Wolverine he finds in the glove compartment.  They sit in the back seat (home of five shirts and a sack of brown rice) in the taco bell parking lot, eating and sharing beany kisses.

 

Joe’s grin is a mile wide the whole night. All of the little foxes that at been pecking at him vanish, just like that, and all it took was a short punk and his weight in burritos.

 

Andy is back, with his banged up little car that Joe likes to call home.  

  
  


 

(They show up really, really late for practice with Patrick. )

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Very subtle little tiny beginning to Vintage Trohley.
> 
> But a bigger more official start fic on it's way.
> 
> (AO3 has fought me to post this, and it may get a makeover in the next few days.  
> )


End file.
